


This Whole Time (Maybe)

by AuroraWest



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Stephen Strange, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, M/M, POV Stephen Strange, Requited Unrequited Love, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Stephen has a fantasy about having a threesome with Loki and Thor, Switch Stephen Strange, idiots to lovers, switch Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest
Summary: There’s no chance of Stephen Strange and Loki Odinson ever being a thing. Even a just-for-the-night thing.But then they're both at that party, and Loki is checking him out, and Stephen's not so sure about that anymore.
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 22
Kudos: 82





	This Whole Time (Maybe)

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally unrelated to my main fic verse. It's a thing that popped into my head, then grew feelings and a plot.
> 
> Fills square for Loki Bingo: "I didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do."

Stephen Strange has a sexual fantasy he’s not proud of. 

Not like a lot of people are proud of their sexual fantasies. But this one is like…well, it’s not messed up. Exactly. Maybe it’s kind of messed up. It could be worse. He’s heard weirder. Kinkier. Dirtier. On a scale of ‘okay to think about in church’ to ‘pure filth,’ this is probably like…a seven.

Stephen’s fantasy is to have sex with both Loki and Thor Odinson. Together. At the same time. 

He guesses it’s kind of like the straight guy fantasy of having a threesome with twin sisters. Except most guys don’t actually know twin sisters. Stephen _does_ know Loki and Thor. They don’t seem all that likely to have sex with him—let alone each other, but who knows? Stephen used to be a neurosurgeon, and now he has a ring that lets him travel to different dimensions and calls fighting squid monsters, demon hordes, and the devil a typical work day. Weirder things have definitely happened than two Asgardian princes deciding they’re up for a threesome with him.

It’s because he’s into Loki. Mostly he fantasizes about Loki. That doesn’t seem as bad. Sometimes he wonders if maybe it’s not _so_ unlikely that Loki would have sex with him. Not like he’s about to inform Loki that he thinks about him naked. Naked and underneath Stephen. Or on top of him. Or up against the wall—

Anyway. He got this image of the two of them once, and look, Thor’s a good looking guy too, even if he’s not really Stephen’s type. And then he thinks about how it would feel to be between them, maybe one of them fucking him while he fucks the other. Maybe he’d like to get spit-roasted. Maybe he’d like one of them to suck him off while the other rims him—well anyway, the point is, there are, if not endless configurations of filthy, incestuous alien sex with him as the lynchpin, there are enough to keep his mind occupied while he jacks off.

He’s never actually wanted it to be anything but a fantasy. It’s good masturbation material. One of his favorites that he pulls out. Pun intended. Stephen’s prospects for sex are pretty much nonexistent these days, and even though he’s surreptitiously been checking Loki out for a couple years now, he’s got a healthy grounding in reality (weird thing to think, considering his day job). There’s no chance of Stephen Strange and Loki Odinson ever being a thing. Even a just-for-the-night thing.

And then he goes to that party. 

He drinks too much. It’s embarrassing but Stephen’s never really been able to hold his liquor. One drink is fine; two drinks and he’s buzzed, three drinks and he’s drunk, but at least it’s a fun, confident drunk. That’s the state he’s in at the party at some hotel or another; he looked it up on Google Street View because he prefers to open his portals by sight rather than address.

The Avengers like to have these get-togethers a few times a year. Stephen doesn’t look forward to them, but he shows up. Three and a quarter drinks in and he’s feeling like he’s probably the funniest, most clever guy in the room, and his eyes land on Loki Odinson and there’s a lurch in his gut as he thinks, _Fuck me, he’s the most gorgeous thing in here._

It’s not a surprise. Is it? Loki _is_ his type. He already knows that. Loki’s like…seriously his type; the black hair, the blue eyes, the English accent that his Allspeak gives him. Or maybe it was Allspeak at first and now it’s just how he talks, now that Thor and he have been on Earth awhile. And he’s tall. And Stephen’s pretty sure that if he got the chance to see Loki’s arms, they’d be the kind of arms that he’d drool over, lean and defined but not too much. He’s sure Loki has the kind of arms that Stephen would want to feel wrapped around his body.

So three and a quarter drinks in—probably not much of a shock that his mind doesn’t do anything to control what he’s now realizing is a serious crush. Or maybe it’s just a boner. He’s getting one of those. 

He’s not sensible enough to not approach Loki, standing against the wall looking guarded, drink in hand. “Hey,” he says, and Loki regards him.

“You’re stuck here too, I see,” Loki says. 

Stephen holds up his glass. “Free booze.”

“And you’ve been partaking.”

“You haven’t?”

Loki picks up a glass from a table at his side and knocks one back. His eyes glaze for a minute. Stephen wonders what he’s drinking. “It’s one of the few things that makes these events bearable.”

One drink in, Stephen wouldn’t even think about saying what he’s about to say. Two drinks in and it would occur to him, but it would never make it out of his mouth. But he’s had three and a half drinks. So he asks, “Yeah? What are the others?”

Loki’s eyes move from Stephen’s head, lingering on his mouth, then down his body. 

Oh shit. Is Loki checking him out?

Loki is checking him out. 

And it’s the most unsubtle anyone has been about checking him out in a long time. Feels good. Feels _really_ good that it’s Loki doing it. He’s older than Loki. Well, he’s younger than Loki, but in all the ways that matter, he’s older. A hot, younger guy—a god—is ogling him. Nothing to complain about there. Is he imagining this? Is he drunker than he thinks he is?

“Just one other, perhaps,” Loki says. 

Stephen looks at Loki’s long, slender fingers wrapped around his glass and tries not to think about how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. Except now he’s thinking about it, and the pressure between his legs is building. He can’t make a move on Loki Odinson. Except there’s an expression in Loki’s eyes that’s inviting it. 

Or maybe he’s had too much to drink. 

He’s definitely had too much to drink. The question is, is it the kind of ‘too much’ where his decisions are all questionable? Or is it the kind of too much that’s just allowing him to do something that he’s been wanting to do for a long time?

Is he misreading Loki? They don’t know each other that well. Sure, they’ve worked together on a project or two, or maybe three or four, which Loki has never seemed thrilled about. But he never says no, either. He’ll huff and roll his eyes and snipe that of _course_ Earth’s “most powerful wizard” (air quotes not even implied, but very exaggeratedly provided) needs his help. But he’s never refused, and once they’re working together, the hours fly by. They get along pretty well, actually. Stephen doesn’t get along well with that many people.

And sometimes Stephen thinks he catches Loki staring. That was kind of where the fantasies started. He noticed Loki staring at him, thought about how crazy it would be to get laid by a god, and then…really started thinking about getting laid by a god. 

Maybe he already had a thing for Loki before that, but after? It was undeniable. 

Stephen watches Loki. Loki watches him back. There’s an upwards quirk to the corner of Loki’s mouth, one eyebrow arched a hair higher than the other, and it’s not really a come hither look but it’s definitely something. 

It’s something Stephen has seen and also not seen before, and he decides to take a chance. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Loki puts his glass down delicately. “I would like,” he says, seeming to choose his words carefully, “to leave here for an hour or two.” His eyes rake up and down Stephen. “I trust that’s neither too long nor too short a time for what I have in mind.”

At these words, and the expression in Loki’s eyes—the way his pupils are dilating, the faint hint of color that’s risen to his cheeks—Stephen feels himself start to really get hard. He didn’t think Loki had it in him to be this forward. Then again, he’s a prince and a god. This is a guy who’s used to getting what he wants. 

Stephen lets himself savor that idea for a second. Loki’s used to getting what he wants, and right now, he apparently wants Stephen. 

“Let’s walk first,” Stephen says.

“Afraid to be seen leaving with me, Stephen?” Loki asks. 

Putting his drink down, Stephen says, “Just concerned that I might have to share.” This is three-and-a-quarter drinks Stephen talking. He’d never say that kind of thing without alcohol. Stephen has never been very good at this kind of…sexy flirting, not quite dirty talk, but innuendo laden back and forth that’s obviously only going to lead to one place.

“Isn’t _that_ a thought,” Loki purrs.

His tone erases any lingering doubt about what they’re leaving here to do. Stephen’s eyes flick down. He can’t help it. There’s a bulge at the front of Loki’s pants. The sight makes Stephen’s blood run hot.

They don’t walk very far before Stephen can’t stand it any more, before he opens up a portal to the Sanctum. He’s not really thinking straight—he’s not really thinking at all, actually; his hard cock has pretty much taken over, and his veins and his body are buzzing with desire. They end up in the foyer when Stephen should have gone straight to the bedroom. But before the portal is even closed, Loki’s mouth is on his.

He tastes like whiskey. His lips are warm and soft and insistent in a way that makes Stephen’s breath hitch. The way Loki molds his body against Stephen’s, his hands cupping Stephen’s face, running over his neck and to his shoulders, makes the hitch turn to a groan. Loki pushes his hips into Stephen’s and there’s no denying how turned on both of them are.

“We should go to my bedroom,” Stephen gasps as they come up for air.

Something is shoved into Stephen’s hands. It’s a jar of lube and Stephen doesn’t know where it came from, but he’s glad Loki has it because Stephen’s pretty sure he doesn’t. Or if he does, he has no idea where it is. It’s been a long time since he’s done this.

Loki is undoing his own pants with one hand, his mouth open as they kiss desperately. “No,” he breathes. “I need it now. I need it from you. I can’t—” His fingers hook into the waistband of Stephen’s jeans and Stephen can feel him pushing his own underwear down over his thighs. “Please. Here. Now.”

Stephen moans and runs his hands over Loki’s thighs and ass. He’s imagined this. He’s longed for it. The last time Loki and he worked together, Loki lingered, standing too close, holding Stephen’s gaze, and before he left his fingers ghosted over the back of Stephen’s hand, over his ugly scars that Loki has never so much as blinked at, and he said, “Until next time, Doctor,” and Stephen cursed himself for not making a move.

In his wildest dreams he never imagined Loki actually saying what he just said. He’s definitely _thought_ about it, but it’s a fantasy; Loki’s a prince, an alien, a god, and Stephen is an aging human who’s never going to have the lean, hard, muscular body of his twenties and thirties back. The idea of Loki saying _I need it from you_ is the sort of thing you assume you’re only going to hear in your fantasies.

“You can take those off,” Stephen groans as Loki’s fingers tug at his jeans, and Loki does it, moaning, his hips rocking against Stephen’s.

And then their naked cocks are rubbing together and Loki’s is magnificent. It’s hot and hard and above all it’s _big_ ; Stephen wants nothing more than to get on his knees and suck Loki off, suck him dry, feel Loki come inside his mouth and hold him there while he moans and his hips buck with release and pleasure. But Loki demands, “Fuck me now, Stephen.”

So Stephen does. He takes Loki bent over the back of the wingback sofa, his fingers digging into Loki’s hips as Loki moans _harder, harder please_ and Stephen does, oh fuck he does; he’s railing Loki Odinson and his mind is entirely blank except the fuzz and wave of physical sensation, of Loki’s tight hole around his dick, the slick slide and thrust of Stephen’s cock inside him, Loki’s sounds. This is the dirtiest sex Stephen has ever had, half dressed, shoes still on, pants and underwear around both of their ankles, lube dripping down the backs of Loki’s thighs. By other people’s standards maybe it’s not that dirty, but Stephen is sensible. He doesn’t do stuff like this.

It doesn’t take an hour, let alone two. When they both come—more or less at the same time, Loki’s cum spilling up over Stephen’s hands, which are both wrapped around his cock—Loki sighs and relaxes, turns soft and pliable. He flips over and tips himself back over the sofa, landing on it with a whoosh of air, and pulls Stephen with him. And then they’re kissing, Loki’s body under Stephen’s, his hands in Stephen’s hair, and Stephen manages to get out, “Sorry it didn’t take very long.”

“Mm,” Loki replied, as his tongue dips into Stephen’s mouth, sliding slowly along Stephen’s tongue. “You can make it up to me by showing me this bedroom of yours.”

So Stephen does that, too. This time, they undress. Loki laughs as he kicks his shoes off, then his pants and underwear, and he rolls on top of Stephen in Stephen’s lonely bed. Not so lonely right now. Not for this moment. The press of their naked bodies together is like a revelation; it’s like the first time Stephen put someone’s spinal column back together; like the first time he saw magic.

Their fucking is sweaty and desperate again, but not as frantic. They take their time, they explore each other’s bodies, they make the other cry out. Stephen can’t take this for granted. He doesn’t know if this is just a whim of Loki’s, if Loki was just horny and Stephen was within reach.

But fuck. _Fuck._ Loki is gorgeous. He’s beautiful. Handsome and sexy, hot and graceful and strong, muscular in a wiry, lithe way. And Stephen’s not sure he’d say Loki’s _good_ in bed. But he’s enthusiastic, and he knows what to do, and Stephen wants him too much to care about skill. Stephen makes him lie back while he sucks his cock and Loki makes the most satisfying sounds; it makes Stephen wonder if anyone’s ever given him a decent blow job. And: Loki’s cock in his mouth is even better than he’s fantasized.

Plus, Loki’s eagerness doesn’t get in the way of his attentiveness. What was Stephen expecting? He didn’t really _have_ expectations, because he never expected to actually fuck Loki. Maybe he thought Loki would be a more selfish lover. Used to getting what he wants. He’s not. Not at all. He makes Stephen feel good, those strong, slender fingers working magic over every inch of Stephen’s body, his tongue and lips exploring like he’s never seen a human body, let alone felt one.

Maybe he hasn’t.

Is Stephen the first human Loki has been with?

No way.

It’s the best sex Stephen’s ever had. When it’s over, he wishes he could go back in time and do it all again.

The two of them lie on Stephen’s bed, sticky and tired, their panting turning to slower breaths. Gradually, Stephen’s heart stops pounding. He’s not as drunk anymore. The clock is showing a time that he’s pretty sure is more than two hours after the time they left the party. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want Loki to notice, even though he’s pretty sure Loki already has.

Loki runs his fingers slowly up Stephen’s front, from his lower abdomen, up over his sternum to his collarbone, and then he leans over and sucks lightly at one of Stephen’s nipples. His fingers find the moles dotted across Stephen’s chest and he touches them one by one. Stephen watches him do it. There’s a focused look on his face. Concentration. Like the most important thing he could be doing right now is learning what Stephen’s naked body looks like.

It would be nice if it’s because he wants to remember this for next time. It would be less nice if it’s because this is never going to happen again, and he’s trying to fix all the details in his memory.

Then, Loki’s eyes flick up to meet Stephen’s. He seems startled, as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. His hand draws back and he shifts away from Stephen, then stands up. “I should get back,” he says.

Stephen sits up in bed. The sheets are damp with sweat and cum. He’s going to have to change them. Loki isn’t the only one who looks like he’s just been fucking—Stephen is damp with sweat and cum, too. Is he really going to go back to this party? He needs to shower. For a second, he thinks about asking Loki if he needs to—but Loki is already looking for his clothes, getting dressed. He casts a glamor over himself when he’s finished, so he looks as smooth and put together as he did when they arrived at the Sanctum.

But the glamor doesn’t do anything about the smell of sex that’s clinging to Loki’s skin and hair. Or maybe Stephen just wants to smell it. The smell is definitely turning him on.

“I hate to trouble you,” Loki says, as though Stephen wasn’t pounding his cock into Loki’s ass twenty minutes ago, “but would you mind opening one of your portals for me?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Stephen grabs his sling ring and puts it on. His fingers are crusty with Loki’s cum. Probably some of his own, too.

Loki straightens his tie. But then, his eyes land on Stephen. Something happens in his face. He takes a step closer, brushes his fingertips over Stephen’s beard, and smiles faintly. “Better than the free booze,” he says.

It’s hard to tell what he means by it. It’s hard to tell if he means it at all. Stephen has a niggling feeling that he just got used to satisfy an alien’s carnal urges. The thing is, it’s hard to care. His nerves are still prickling. Watching Loki get dressed stirs something in him, and it’s not just his dick.

When he opens the portal, Loki leaves without another word. Stephen flops back onto his bed. He’s not going to go back to the party.

He wonders when he’s going to see Loki again.

* * *

Turns out it’s not too long. A couple weeks later, Sam Wilson asks him if he can look into something weird going on over on Staten Island. As Stephen listens to the briefing, he thinks, might be nothing, might be Nightmare. The worst part will be hanging out on Staten Island. He’ll do his best to get this over with quickly.

“I asked Loki to help,” Wilson says at the end of the briefing. “Seems like you two make a pretty good team.”

Loki?

Stephen nods, keeping the leap in his chest, the way his heart ricochets from his throat down to his stomach and back, off his face. He doesn’t know if anyone noticed the fact that both Loki and he disappeared from the party at the same time two weeks ago. It doesn’t really matter if they did. Loki and Stephen are grown ups. If they want to hook up after a few drinks, that’s their business. If other people want to gossip about it, it says more about them than it does about Stephen or Loki.

Stephen has no idea if Loki feels that way. Maybe Loki doesn’t want anyone knowing. There’s no way for Stephen to tell, because he doesn’t know Loki. Not really.

“I have some time to start looking into it today,” Stephen says. “Things are pretty quiet on the interdimensional disturbances front.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Wilson says, shooting him a smile.

“When’s Loki coming?”

At this, Wilson’s smile fades, and he rolls his eyes. “Who knows. Guy makes a habit of being difficult.”

“Yeah,” Stephen says, giving Sam the kind of masculine, bro smile that’s expected in this situation. Immediately, he feels like he’s betrayed Loki in some way, even though there’s not a whole lot of anything between them to betray.

Is there?

“How did Loki take the news that he was going to be stuck working with me again?” Stephen asks, his tone still jokey.

Shrugging, Sam says, “I never really know what he’s thinking.”

Stephen wants to press, but he doesn’t. It would be weird. He’s going to see Loki soon enough, anyway. Or at least, he’s going to see Loki sometime.

* * *

“Hi.”

Stephen turns around to find Loki behind him in the coffeeshop, wearing obviously high end sunglasses and sucking on a Frappuccino. A bunch of things run through Stephen’s mind. But what he says is, “I can’t believe you went to Starbucks when you could have gone to a neighborhood place like this.”

Behind the sunglasses, one of Loki’s eyebrows quirks up. “The line was shorter at Starbucks. Anyway, could I have gotten _this—_ ” He brandishes the plastic cup. “—here?”

Probably not. It’s some horrible pink and blue concoction. There’s glitter on the whipped cream. “That can’t possibly taste good,” Stephen said.

Loki sucks at the straw again. Stephen tries not to let his gaze linger on the shape Loki’s lips make as he does it. “Not at all. I just couldn’t _not_ get it. You understand.”

Weirdly, Stephen does. And Loki has a point about the line at this place—if he didn’t hate Starbucks and the way all the big chains drove the quirky local spots like this one out of business, then he’d go across the street too, just for a hit of caffeine.

He’s been up all night. He’s pretty sure Nightmare is behind this, and Nightmare operates best at night. Not like people aren’t sleeping at all hours, especially in New York, but there’s just way more variety once it gets dark.

“What spells have you tried?” Loki asks.

“None yet,” Stephen says. Loki looks disdainful. “I’m still working on a few theories, for your information,” Stephen adds.

“It’s Nightmare, isn’t it?” Loki asks, as though this is the most obvious thing in the world.

They’re almost to the front of the line. Fucking finally. “Knowing it’s Nightmare and actually tracking him down are two very different things,” Stephen says.

Serenely, Loki replies, “Good thing you have my help, then.”

“Right,” Stephen says. He shoots Loki a crooked smile. He’s in on the joke. He gets it. “I’m sure you were totally enthusiastic when Sam asked you to partner up with me on this.”

Loki stares at him. Then, his eyes flick to a point beyond Stephen’s shoulder and he nods his head. “It’s your turn, Stephen.”

As Stephen spins to step up to the counter, Loki adds, “I told Wilson not to bother asking me to help out with any of his little Avengers missions—unless they involve you.”

Stephen messes up his order and ends up with two shots of caramel in his coffee instead of two shots of espresso.

Loki looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. But Stephen can’t look away from the sharpness of his smile.

* * *

Six days later, Stephen’s torn between frustration that this is taking as long as it is…and pleasure that it means he’s getting to spend all this time with Loki. At first he thought maybe Loki would go off on his own, sleuth things out by himself. Or maybe that he’d be more hands off, only showing up now and then to remind Stephen that he’s not making much progress, is he, and has he considered this thing that Loki’s acting like is really obvious but actually is something Loki probably pored over for hours and hours to figure out?

Last night they fought a shadowy form in Latourette Park, but they didn’t seem to do any damage, and it got away. Tonight, they’re in that same park. It’s been mostly quiet, though. The place is big enough that you can get away from the road, probably a little bigger than Central Park. There are woods and secluded areas, paths that dip into hollows. It’s full of the kind of places that you see in the opening scenes of Law and Order, where they always find the body.

Right around midnight, there’s something that they chase into the woods, but it’s gone before they can tell what it is. Now, the two of them are seated on some stone steps, the most complete remains of a building that’s definitely seen better days. They lead up into nothing, the ruins of something called Heyerdahl House. There’s trash scattered around, including a used condom. Great. Charming.

When they first got there, Loki illuminated the area with a glowing ball of light, which lit a handwritten wooden sign that says BEWARE OF GHOSTS.

“Ghosts aren’t so bad,” Loki says as they sit there in the dark.

Stephen raises his eyebrows. “Depends what kind of ghosts.”

Loki regards him. In the gloom, his skin looks very pale. “I suppose.” He pauses. “You lead a very interesting life, don’t you?”

“Glad you finally noticed,” Stephen says wryly.

With a flash of teeth, Loki says, “I noticed, Strange.”

That makes something in Stephen’s chest feel warm. Makes his heart beat a little faster, too.

Loki shifts. Suddenly, his leg is touching Stephen’s all down the lengths of their thighs, hip to knee. That makes Stephen’s heart beat even faster. He reminds himself that they’re out here to catch Nightmare, to stop him from whatever evil scheme he’s playing out this time. Loki has given no indication that he even remembers what happened at the party, though of course, he must. There definitely hasn’t been any indication that he’s interested in a repeat performance.

Stephen realizes that _he_ definitely is, though.

As an experiment, Stephen lets his leg press against Loki’s a little harder. Loki doesn’t move away. “I always wonder if you get bored on Earth. It must be really different than Asgard.”

There’s a silence. Then, Loki says thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t say I get bored.”

_What was that about three weeks ago?_ Stephen wants to ask. _Was_ that _because you were bored?_

Loki turns his head and looks at Stephen. “But yes. It’s very different than Asgard.”

“Bad different?”

“Different different.” He looks considering. “Earth offers things that Asgard…didn’t.”

Is it just because it’s dark, or has the expression on Loki’s face changed? “So, maybe good different,” Stephen says.

One of Loki’s hands comes up. His fingers trace down Stephen’s jaw and Stephen’s stomach turns inside out. “Men on Asgard always seemed to think that the bigger and more wild the beard, the more attractive it was,” Loki says.

Stephen’s heart is hammering now. He wants to put a hand on Loki’s leg, to slide it up the inside of his thigh, to feel the heat radiating off his balls. He wants to see if Loki has an erection, because if he does, then Stephen doesn’t have to feel like he shouldn’t have one, himself. And he does. He definitely does. “And you’re not into that.”

Loki’s fingers brush through Stephen’s goatee, following the line of bristle up to Stephen’s mouth. His finger inches up over Stephen’s lip, and Stephen can’t help it—he takes Loki’s fingertip in his mouth, sucking at it, running his tongue over it.

Loki lets out a little noise, a breath, not quite a moan, but not quite _not_ a moan. His palm cups Stephen’s chin and Stephen takes his finger deeper in his mouth. “I must admit,” Loki says, a helpless undercurrent to his voice, “that I’ve always had a bit of a weakness for a well-groomed goatee.”

And then he pulls his finger from Stephen’s mouth, which Stephen only has about half a second to lament before it’s replaced with Loki’s tongue. Stephen puts his hands on the sides of Loki’s neck, feeling Loki’s pulse hammering under his palm, and he kisses him, open-mouthed and hot, the harsh sounds of their panting echoing in his ears.

Loki swings a leg over Stephen and straddles him and Stephen groans. There’s no way to stop his hips arching, no way to stop himself from grinding against Loki. When he keeps his hands in Loki’s hair, though, and on his shoulders and his wonderful arms, Loki says, “You know you can touch me, don’t you, Strange? In fact that’s rather the idea.”

“Whatever you want,” slips out of Stephen’s mouth. He should have kept his tongue down Loki’s throat instead of saying this. But Loki just laughs and rolls his hips, then guides one of Stephen’s hands to his crotch. His pants are straining over his cock. Stephen moans and rubs his palm over it.

“Can you undo my pants?” Loki breaths, and Stephen understands that this isn’t just a request, but also a question about his ability to do so, if his hands have the dexterity. Usually questions like this annoy Stephen, but now he channels that feeling into showing Loki exactly how adept he is at popping open a button and pulling a zipper down. Just to really prove how well he can undress a lover, he undoes Loki’s shirt too, opening it so he can run his hands over Loki’s chest, so he can pinch his nipples, then pull Loki closer to suck at them. It didn’t escape his notice the first time they fucked that Loki has scars on his body that he’s glamored to be invisible. Stephen runs his tongue over them, his breath fogging in the night air as he breathes out through his mouth. Even if Loki doesn’t want him to see them, Stephen still wants to learn them.

Loki pushes Stephen’s robes up to his waist and unbuttons his pants, pulls his cock through the front of his underwear, and the next thing Stephen knows, Loki’s hand is slathering lube over him. “I couldn’t get _this_ on Asgard,” Loki says, a growl to his voice that makes Stephen’s cock ache.

No. No, Stephen guesses that’s true, technically, because there’s only one Stephen Strange and he’s very, very human, and he’s definitely never been to Asgard—but surely other Asgardians fuck better than a human guy in his mid-forties?

Stephen reaches underneath Loki to pull his pants and underwear farther down his legs, to spread him wide, and Loki lifts himself up and onto Stephen’s cock. When they fucked before, Stephen went slow, because that’s what you do. He’s well aware that a rectum is a delicate thing, that you don’t just shove your cock up there, no matter how much lube you use.

But Loki either doesn’t know that—or more likely, Loki doesn’t care. He sinks down on Stephen’s rock hard cock with a filthy moan, which Stephen echoes because—because—oh fuck, _fuck_ , Loki feels so good, how can he feel so good?

“Oh fuck…yes…” Loki hisses as he begins to move, sliding up and down, rocking his hips, ensuring that Stephen’s cock gets good and deep. “Fuck me,” he demands, just like the first time.

“Whatever you want,” Stephen repeats, groaning and holding Loki in place as the two of them move together, Stephen’s upward thrusts meeting Loki as he bears down.

Loki’s hands twist in Stephen’s hair and he breathes, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

If there are any ghosts there at Heyerdahl House, they get an eyeful. Stephen and Loki fuck there on the crumbling steps, their moans cutting through the night air, sweat pouring down Stephen’s back and slicking Loki’s skin under his palms.

To be honest, Stephen always fucks like he means it. But what it means with Loki feels different, the way Loki hisses his name and exhorts him to more, the way he pants and gasps, his head thrown back, throat exposed, the way he moans, _Harder, split me in two, I don’t want to be able to walk away from here_. Loki acts like he can never get enough, never possibly be satisfied, but the way he comes, the way he pours slick cum everywhere, and the way he flops over Stephen’s shoulders once he has—that’s definitely satisfaction.

Stephen finishes once Loki has, burying his face in Loki’s neck and getting a mouthful of hair and the taste of Loki’s skin as he moans Loki’s name. Stephen’s hips pump frantically and Loki rocks with him, even though his own cock is getting soft in Stephen’s hand.

Then they’re both still, breathing hard. The park is eerily quiet, which makes Stephen realize how much noise they were making. Well. They probably aren’t the first couple to fuck out here. Scratch that. There’s a used condom four feet away. They _definitely_ aren’t the first couple to fuck out here. They might be the most unusual, though.

Loki tugs at the back of Stephen’s hair, and when Stephen straightens his head up, Loki kisses him. There’s a depth to Loki’s kiss, a feeling behind it, that makes Stephen want to sit there on these steps forever, his hands moving around to Loki’s back, holding him. Loki’s muscles shift under Stephen’s hands. It’s funny, but Stephen hasn’t thought once about how useless his hands are when he’s with Loki. It’s obvious that for whatever reason, Loki likes the feeling of them on his body.

There’s going to be a moment like last time where something gives and one of them—probably Loki—is going to bring them back to the real world. Is Loki going to ditch him so Stephen can figure out this Nightmare thing by himself? Not that Stephen can’t do it. But the thought makes him sort of sad. This week with Loki, working with him on taking down a bad guy—it’s been nice. It’s been fun. He hopes he didn’t just fuck all that up.

The thing is that it’s impossible to say no to Loki. And it’s impossible not to want him.

Loki winds his legs around Stephen’s back awkwardly. They’re way too long, and he ends up kicking Stephen somewhere in the vicinity of his left kidney. Stephen makes a pained noise, Loki breaks their kiss with an, “Oops,” and Stephen’s cock pops out of Loki’s ass with an audible squelch. Now cum is leaking out of Loki’s ass all over Stephen’s pants—in a second, he’ll be able to feel the damp patch through the fabric.

The two of them look at each other, and then Loki smirks. Stephen snorts with laughter. Loki kisses him again.

This shouldn’t be so easy, but it is. Stephen should find a nice, laid back girl or guy to do this with; someone who doesn’t care that he keeps odd hours; like, _really_ odd hours, someone who can handle the magic and the weirdness and all of it.

Someone, that is, who isn’t Loki, because Loki is…Loki.

Gracelessly, Loki gets to his feet, pulling his pants up, buttoning his shirt. He winces, and Stephen asks, “What?” The lascivious smile Loki gives him is all the answer he needs and Stephen opens his mouth, unsure of what he should say. “Sorry…?” he tries.

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” Loki says. “Unless it’s to be sorry for the fact that I’m able to stand at all.”

Any minute now, Loki’s going to leave. Either he’ll ask Stephen to open a portal or he’ll just walk off into the darkness. Stephen watches him, trying to memorize every detail. With his fogged breath wreathing him, his hair messy and hanging around his face, his shirt not quite tucked in right, he’s so gorgeous. He probably won’t show up again to help with Nightmare.

But then, Loki slides back onto the steps next to Stephen. He crosses one leg over the other, then seems to think better of it and just leans back against the steps. He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll look out for ghosts, Stephen. You’re supposed to be taking care of Nightmare.”

Stephen grins crookedly. It’s really tempting to put his arm around Loki’s shoulders, but this moment feels delicate. So he doesn’t.

Several minutes pass in silence. Is this going to get awkward? Maybe it would have been better if Loki left, after all, as much as Stephen wants him to stay.

Then, Loki says, “I read the book you recommended.”

It takes Stephen a second to remember what he’s talking about. Surprised, Stephen looks at Loki. “ _Dune_? Did I recommend it?”

“You said you liked it.”

In Stephen’s mind, this isn’t the same thing at all. “So what did you think?”

Loki tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “It was very good. Epic. And I appreciated the environmental message.”

“Yeah, spice is a pretty thin metaphor for oil,” Stephen says. “And it was written before the oil crisis in the 70s, too. Prescient in a lot of ways, I guess.”

Cocking his head, Loki asks, “Oil crisis?”

Stephen smiles. “You want a history lesson?”

“Of course,” Loki says.

They don’t catch Nightmare. But they talk until the sun comes up. When the first rays hit them, Loki squints and throws a hand up in front of his eyes. “I suppose I’ll see you tonight,” he says as he gets to his feet. Stephen can’t help noticing that there’s a certain gingerness to his movements, and that makes his stomach feel hot. Loki must see something on his face, because he smiles, a hint of slyness to it.

“I guess so,” Stephen replies. He gets a stupid urge to like, shake Loki’s hand or something. Christ. “You want me to bring you somewhere?” This is the first time he’s asked. It occurs to him that Loki’s probably not going back to New Asgard every day. Doesn’t Loki have a ship or something? Probably faster than a commercial flight, which is a pretty funny thought. Loki sitting in economy, watching a movie on the little airplane screen. No, he definitely has his own transportation. But it has to be at least a few hours from New York to Norway, even in a spaceship.

Shaking his head, Loki says, “I have a VRBO nearby.”

He pronounces each letter. It’s adorable. “Oh,” Stephen says. “Is it nice?”

With a slight smile, Loki shrugs and replies, “It’s alright. You know. Staten Island.”

This makes Stephen laugh. He doesn’t know if Loki actually has anything against Staten Island or if he’s just referencing Stephen’s snobbery, which he hasn’t really made much of a secret of. “If I’d known you needed a place to stay, I could have made up a guest room in the Sanctum,” he says without thinking.

Immediately, he regrets it. It feels like a serious misstep.

But Loki reaches out, smiling slightly, and flicks a finger at the hair that hangs over Stephen’s forehead. Normally he slicks it back, but after, uh, tonight’s exertions, it’s not a surprise it’s loose. The gesture feels incredibly intimate. It makes something hurt in Stephen’s chest. 

“I appreciate the offer,” Loki says. “Maybe another time.”

“Sure,” Stephen says, like it’s no big deal. It isn’t. He offers Loki a crooked smile. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“You already kept me up, Doctor,” Loki replies, his tone flip. With one final, faint smile, he turns and walks away, his hands in his pockets. Stephen watches him go, and then he keeps standing there, staring at the curve in the path that took Loki from his sight. He doesn’t think he imagined that Loki glanced back at him once before he disappeared.

* * *

“I know how he’s doing it,” Loki says.

“Same,” Stephen says.

Loki looks slightly put out. Probably feels like Stephen is showing him up. He’s not, though it would definitely be embarrassing if Loki figured out how to take out Nightmare instead of Stephen. Nightmare’s _his_ villain. Though he can appreciate that Loki came to the same conclusion at the same time. And when Loki tells him his realization, Stephen admires how neatly he lays it out.

With a smile, Stephen says, “Well, let’s take the douchebag out, then.”

Nightmare is one of those villains that feels flashy and scary when you’re fighting him, but he doesn’t leave much of a mark on the real world. So even though Stephen and Loki feel like they’ve been pummeled, when they actually have Nightmare safely locked away, they don’t look any worse for wear.

Running a hand through his hair, Loki says, “That was fun.”

Stephen laughs. But Loki’s not wrong. This _has_ been fun. Two wizards are always better than one when it comes to an asshole like Nightmare. “Yeah? You want to start helping me out more regularly?”

“Mm. I have things to do too, you know,” Loki says, but there’s a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Anyway, that has the ring of Loki Odinson: Sidekick, and I’m no one’s sidekick.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about anyone thinking that,” Stephen says.

Loki tilts his head. “Perhaps not.” It’s obvious he disagrees, but he doesn’t argue.

So what happens now? The mission’s over with. There’s no reason to see Loki anymore. Well—there are lots of reasons to see Loki, but suddenly there aren’t any _excuses_ to see Loki. Shit. That’s…

The high of taking out Nightmare abruptly vanishes.

If this were anyone else, _anyone_ else, Stephen would ask if he wants to get breakfast. He’d say there’s a great spot on Washington Square, nice view of the park, great people watching, except if they went there Stephen wouldn’t be watching anyone, he’d only have eyes for Loki. Loki is transfixing. At first Stephen thought Loki knew just _how_ transfixing he is. At first he thought this was a game to Loki.

Now he’s not so sure. Loki showed up night after night for this. He spent his days thinking about how to defeat Nightmare. He had Stephen’s back. Maybe…maybe this isn’t a game to Loki, after all.

But this isn’t anyone else. It’s Loki. So Stephen doesn’t ask him to breakfast. But he wants to. Christ, he wants to. He wants to ask when he’ll see Loki again. Not if. When.

Loki sticks out a hand. Stephen stares at it. What the hell is this? But he can’t do anything but take it. Loki shakes it with a solemnity that’s incredibly charming. He’s being sincere.

A few nights ago this guy was telling Stephen to fuck him so hard that he wouldn’t be able to walk. Now they’re shaking hands like they’re two people leaving a business meeting. He doesn’t get Loki.

Maybe Loki’s trying to tell him something. Maybe he’s trying to make it clear that the sex is just sex. That it is, in some ways, a business arrangement.

But then, before Stephen can pull his hand away, Loki turns it over, bringing his other hand up to run his fingers over Stephen’s scars. As much as he hates people looking this closely at them, Stephen lets Loki do it. Loki doesn’t seem repulsed. “Does this ever cause you pain?” Loki asks.

“Sometimes,” Stephen says. Maybe most of the time, but he’s learned to ignore it when it’s not so bad.

Something flickers over Loki’s face, something that Stephen can’t really figure out. Is it…regret? “My mother was very good at healing magic,” he says. “And the healers on Asgard could have helped you.”

What’s happening here? Does Loki…does Loki want to _help_ him? Loki doesn’t gain anything from Stephen’s hands not hurting. Why would this matter to him?

Abruptly, Loki looks up at Stephen, dropping his hand. The morning sun hits his face and his eyes look so, so blue.

Stephen should probably say something. “Did your mom teach you magic?”

This time, there’s no mistaking the shadow that passes over Loki’s face. Sadness. Grief. “Yes,” he says. Stephen sort of regrets bringing it up. Then again, he guesses Loki was the one that brought it up.

“She must have been proud of you,” Stephen says. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to kick himself. What a useless, stupid platitude. But maybe that’s all their relationship is. They fuck, but they don’t really know each other. They can offer platitudes, but not much else.

That isn’t true. Stephen doesn’t really know what this is, but he knows it’s not _that._

With a faint, unhappy smile, Loki says, “Perhaps at one point. After I tried to conquer Earth…pride in me was in rather short supply.”

Right. That.

Stephen knows he should care. He _knows_ he should care. The thing is, he knows how it feels to kiss Loki, he knows what Loki’s tongue feels like as it traces over his body, he knows what it’s like to have Loki’s cock in his mouth, what it feels like to fuck Loki. And he knows that Loki has done nothing but try to help the people of Earth since Thor found a way to return him to life.

He also knows that he really likes spending time with Loki. It’s just as good as the sex.

There’s no way out of this conversation that doesn’t make it worse. And Stephen doesn’t want to be patronizing. Talking about this stuff doesn’t bother him—he has enough painful shit in his history—but he gets the feeling that it bothers Loki, and Stephen doesn’t want to drive him away.

Of course, that implies there’s something keeping him here.

Smiling a little, Stephen says, “If you ever want to get drunk and trade stories about all the crap life can throw at you, you know where to find me.”

A brief smile lights Loki’s face. “The last time we were both drunk, you bent me over a sofa and fucked me from behind. Roughly, I might add.”

Jesus. Hearing him say this in the light of day, and not when their hands are all over each other and inside the other’s clothes, is both shocking…and incredibly hot. Stephen laughs, because if he doesn’t laugh, he’s going to suggest they do it again now. “I wasn’t so drunk that I don’t remember that you were the one giving the orders. I’m pretty sure I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“You’re a good listener, Stephen,” Loki says. There’s a hint of a growl to his voice.

_You’re impossible to ignore_ , Stephen wants to say. Instead, he replies, “I do what I can.”

There’s a silence. Loki’s fingers twist together in front of his hips before he hides them behind his back. “If I _did_ find myself in Greenwich Village,” he says, “and my path took me down Bleecker Street…would that be an unwelcome state of affairs?”

_Come by anytime._ Another thing Stephen isn’t going to say. “No,” he says. “That wouldn’t be unwelcome.”

Loki nods. “I _do_ like New York.”

Another silence. Loki takes a step back, then wavers. He rocks forward again. Before Stephen quite knows what’s happening, Loki kisses him, a light, fleeting brush of his lips across Stephen’s. It’s so quick and over so fast that Stephen wonders if he imagined it, because Loki is walking away without a word.

Huh.

Stephen doesn’t know what to make of that. He’s pretty sure it’s not a bad thing, though.

* * *

Stephen and Wong are at CVS picking up some stuff when Stephen throws some lube into the basket. It feels kind of like tempting fate to do it, like a jinx or something, like he’s going to have it on hand and he’s never going to need it, but he does it anyway. He thinks about getting condoms, too, but…well, it’s a little late for that. And maybe buying both the lube _and_ condoms is expecting too much.

Loki hasn’t come by the Sanctum yet. But it’s only been a week. Stephen has been telling himself not to get his hopes up. He also can’t help it. The lube is clearly a symptom of that.

When Stephen tosses the bottle into the basket, Wong raises his eyebrows. “What?” Stephen asks. “It’s not like you’re a monk, either.”

They make a pass through the seasonal candy aisle. Wong grabs a bag of Valentine’s Day chocolate off the shelf and says, “I think it’s good for you.”

“It’s Loki,” Stephen says, figuring he might as well just spit it out. He realizes that it kind of sounds like a rebuttal to what Wong said. Maybe it is.

Wong looks like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “Is it serious?” he finally asks.

No. Of course not. It’s just sex. Loki has needs. For some reason, he’s chosen Stephen to take care of them. Stephen has needs too, but he’d kind of forgotten that was the case until Loki kissed him the day of that party, tasting like whiskey.

He doesn’t know. Loki has implied many times that it’s Stephen, specifically, that he wants.

The answer can’t possibly be yes, no matter how much Stephen would like it to be. What’s the point of wanting something that he can’t have?

Finally, Stephen repeats with a wry smile, “It’s Loki. What do you think?”

This isn’t an answer but Wong doesn’t press. Maybe it’s because it _is_ an answer, and Wong knows it’s not the one that Stephen wants to give.

* * *

Loki comes by the Sanctum to ask a question about magic. It’s complicated and theoretical and they get in one of those academic arguments where you both get kind of heated but in the end realize you actually more or less agree, provided neither of you is too pedantic. Of course, both Loki and Stephen _are_ too pedantic, but both of them put it aside. Then it’s dinnertime and Stephen puts on his big boy pants, plucks up his courage, and says he can order takeout if Loki wants to stay? Loki nods, and Stephen says, “I have to go get my wallet from my bedroom.”

This isn’t true. His wallet is in his back pocket. But he wants to see what Loki says.

“I’ll help you find it,” Loki says, a tiny smile on his face.

Stephen hadn’t actually said it was lost. But Loki kicks the door shut once they’re in Stephen’s room, jams his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, and breathes into Stephen’s mouth, “Found it.”

Clothes come off and then they’re on the bed and Loki’s hand is on his cock, making Stephen feel amazing like always. “Shouldn’t we use condoms?” Stephen asks, regretting now that he didn’t buy those, too. He’s not really afraid he’s going to get Asgardian herpes, but it feels…not gentlemanly…to not offer. Not like Loki seems to have an issue with it.

Loki makes a face. “You don’t need to worry about me. Do I need to worry about you?”

“No.”

Loki slides his hand up and down Stephen’s cock, smiling like a cat with a mouse. Stephen lets out a breath and fucks Loki’s hand faster.

It’s the first time Loki doesn’t tell Stephen to fuck him. When Stephen finishes in Loki’s palm, Loki’s hand cupped around his ass, fingers playing with his hole, Loki asks, “Do you only like…that is, do you prefer…not…receiving…?”

He seems uncharacteristically unsure of himself, and despite the softness spreading through all of Stephen’s limbs, he sees something in Loki that he recognizes all too well from himself. Does Loki not want to mess this up, either? And what does messing this up look like to Loki, anyway?

When Loki doesn’t go on, Stephen smiles a little. “Are you asking me if you can top?”

“Yes,” Loki replies, clearly relieved that he doesn’t have to say it.

Stephen almost tells him to go to town, but then he remembers that Loki’s Asgardian, really strong, and that might be a serious mistake. He almost says it anyway, because the idea is hot. His smile widens, and he reaches into his bedside table for the lube that he bought at CVS. They didn’t have jars, and the pump bottles and squeeze bottles are hard on his hands, so he gives it to Loki. Loki, he realizes, has a jar. Coincidence, or has he watched Stephen struggle with squeeze bottles when they’ve worked together?

“I didn’t know if you liked to switch,” Stephen says. “Or I would have already suggested it.”

Loki laughs. “Likewise.”

For a second, Stephen doesn’t feel like a middle-aged guy who’s had plenty of sexual encounters with men and women. He feels like he’s in college, trying anal for the first time with the guy down the hall in his dorm who isn’t ever really his boyfriend but is close enough. Which is to say: a little nervous, really excited, and really ready to get down to it. But also just…kind of giddy and shy, like Loki and he are seeing each other in a new light.

Loki looks Stephen’s body up and down, then brushes the backs of his fingers over Stephen’s face. His hand flips over and he touches Stephen’s eyebrows, then his cheekbones, before tracing a line down Stephen’s jaw to his beard. “You’re quite lovely, you know that, Strange?” he asks.

Maybe there’s nothing to it, but Stephen has noticed that in moments like this, moments that are sort of…tender, Loki never uses his first name. When they’re fucking, when it’s at it’s dirtiest, Loki calls him Stephen. But not at times like this.

“Coming from you, that’s a serious compliment,” Stephen says. He’s half joking and half not. It’s kind of like having a supermodel tell you you’re good-looking. Not like Stephen thinks he’s _not_ good-looking. But Loki is on a different level. Calling him a 10 doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But Loki blinks. “What do you mean?”

Stephen feels his forehead crinkle. “Are you serious?”

Loki’s fingers play with the hair leading from Stephen’s navel to his crotch. There’s cum in it. And having Loki’s fingers so close to Stephen’s dick is making it stir again. “If it’s a stupid question—”

“No.” Stephen says this with a lot more feeling than he means to. But it stops Loki. Their gazes lock. “You’re just like…by far the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever been with,” Stephen says. “You’re by far the most gorgeous _person_ I’ve ever been with. Ever.”

For a second, Loki appears speechless. His mouth opens, then hinges shut. He picks up the lube, then puts it back down. Then, he leans forward and kisses Stephen. It’s not the hungry, open-mouthed kiss that Stephen’s used to from him. It’s soft and sweet, and Stephen is struck again by the feeling that something new is happening.

When Loki pulls away, he’s quiet. His eyes remain closed. Then, he opens them, looking, for just another few seconds, utterly content.

The contentedness flickers away, though, and is replaced by something darker and hungrier. He pushes his hips, and his very hard cock, into Stephen’s, and Stephen feels himself start to get hard again. “Can I fuck you?” Loki asks.

Stephen grins. “Like you mean it.”

* * *

There’s no pretense the next time. Or maybe there wasn’t ever pretense. Stephen hears a knock on the door, but before he can get up from the big leather chair in the study, Wong’s footsteps cross the foyer. Stephen settles back down with his book, but his spine cracks upright as he hears that English accent, lazy, sardonic amusement underneath it, say, “Hello, Wong. I’m here to see Stephen, if he’s around?”

Stephen is on his feet and striding through the foyer before he even realizes he’s doing it. Loki’s eyes blaze when he catches sight of Stephen. Wong just says, “I’ll let you two discuss whatever you have to talk about.”

Right. Wong is going to put on his noise-canceling headphones and listen to Beyonce’s newest album a couple times. Two spins is normally enough time for Stephen and Loki to bang.

When Loki steps inside and closes the door behind himself, Stephen approaches him. Loki waits until Wong is out of sight, then grabs Stephen by the belt, reeling him closer. As he unhooks Stephen’s belt, he says, “Probably not the foyer this time, since Wong is here?”

“Seems like good manners,” Stephen replies, his cock throbbing as it hardens in record time. He teleports them to his bedroom and Loki strips his jeans and underwear off, pulling them down around Stephen’s ankles and getting on his knees. He doesn’t say another word as his tongue glides over the tip of Stephen’s cock. Stephen makes a noise and grabs for Loki’s head, burying his fingers in Loki’s hair.

There’s a smile on Loki’s face as he runs his tongue down Stephen’s length, then back up, and when he takes Stephen’s cock in his mouth, Stephen can’t do anything but moan. It feels amazing—Loki’s mouth is so warm, so wet, and he’s doing things with his tongue that make Stephen reassess the fact that he’d thought, at one point, that Loki wasn’t very experienced. Stephen has a lot of notches on his bedpost when it comes to blowjobs.

This is better than all of them.

The sensation is heightened by how fucking hot Loki is. He looks blissful, practically rapturous, like sucking Stephen’s cock is the best thing that could happen to him. This isn’t even the first time he’s done it, but—maybe Stephen wasn’t watching last time, or maybe Loki wasn’t as into it, or—who knows. He’s moaning now as he swallows Stephen’s cock, and it takes every ounce of willpower Stephen has to not roll his hips, to not fuck Loki’s beautiful face.

Of course, Loki grabs his ass with both hands and pulls him further inside, until Stephen feels the tip of his cock hit the back of Loki’s throat. And then Loki is sliding his lips and tongue along Stephen’s cock, in and out, in and out, and there’s saliva and pre-cum shining on his face.

Stephen asks how Loki feels about someone coming in his mouth. It’s the polite thing to do. He _wants_ to come in Loki’s mouth, but he’s not going to just do it. That’s…gross, and rude, and Stephen may be middle-aged but he finds the whole enthusiastic consent movement very refreshing.

So he asks. Well, he kind of moans it, gasping between each word.

In answer, Loki inserts a lubed finger into Stephen’s ass, crooking it to rub his prostate.

Stephen finishes so hard that Loki can’t swallow fast enough. Cum slips out past Stephen’s cock, past Loki’s lips, and runs down his chin.

“Loki, oh my god, Loki—” Stephen feels like he might be crying, it feels so good, and this isn’t the first time with Loki that he’s felt this way. This is the way it is every time.

But Loki takes his time swallowing, cleaning Stephen up with his tongue, and finally himself, wiping his chin with his fingers and then sticking them in his mouth. He looks immensely satisfied with himself. He also looks like he has a really painful erection.

Stephen thinks about going to the bed, but instead he drops to his knees right there on the floor, undoing Loki’s pants shakily. It’s hard for him to do it fast. It would be hotter if he could do it fast. But Loki waits, still, and Stephen feels his eyes on him as he undoes button after button and finally pushes Loki’s pants down over his hips, then his underwear. Loki wears the same boring boxer-briefs that Stephen does, and he doesn’t know why but this detail makes his heart flutter.

With Loki’s pants halfway down his thighs, he realizes that what he’s been picturing is going to take some maneuvering, not to mention communication, and that is…also not as hot as he’d like it to be. What he wants is to just lie back on the floor and for Loki to lie on top of him so he can suck his cock. But his pants are in the way, and Loki will have to stand up to take them off, and then he’ll have to straddle Stephen’s head, and it’s just a lot of talking, when Stephen doesn’t want to be able to talk.

When he hesitates, Loki takes one of Stephen’s hands and guides it to his cock. Stephen is literally powerless to stop his fingers from closing around it, and Loki sighs, leaning forward so that his forehead bumps against Stephen’s, his hips moving, fucking Stephen’s hand slowly.

“I want to suck you off,” Stephen says, though he definitely doesn’t mean it as a complaint.

“You don’t have to,” Loki breathes, the movement of his hips still languid. Heat crawls up Stephen’s spine.

“I know I don’t _have_ to,” Stephen says. He realizes that he’s kissing Loki’s face, and it makes his whole body hurt with the sweetest ache, because Loki is letting him do it, tilting his head to make it easier, so Stephen can kiss his eyebrow, his temple, his cheek, his jaw, his chin. “I want to. I love doing it.”

This sort of makes it sound like it’s something that’s happened a lot, instead of like, twice.

Of course, if Stephen is honest, he’d like it to be something that happens a lot.

Reluctantly, Stephen releases Loki’s cock. He shuffles backwards on his knees, then lies down. Loki watches him, his eyes just a little wider than normal. “Take off your clothes,” Stephen says, “and come here.”

For once, Loki does what Stephen tells him to. Asks him to. Stephen would never _tell_ Loki to do anything. Stephen would never make Loki do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Loki strips his clothes off and Stephen positions him right where he wants him, so he can take Loki’s balls in his mouth and roll them around, tug on them and suck until Loki is writhing and gasping. And then he repositions Loki, draws him down, puts his lips around Loki’s cock and takes it in his mouth. Loki moans, and it’s filthy sounding, it’s heaven, it’s the best thing that Stephen has ever heard. At least it’s the best thing that Stephen has ever heard until Loki starts panting, “Right there, oh fuck, right there—yes—”

Stephen doesn’t need to be told twice. His tongue traces circles around the head of Loki’s cock, pushes into the slit, tasting Loki. He tastes so good. Where’s that fucking lube? He wants to put a finger up Loki’s ass. He settles for rubbing Loki’s taint with a thumb.

When Loki comes, he lets out the most shameless moan that Stephen has ever heard, and it trails off into, “Stephen…gods…fuck…Stephen.”

Actually, maybe _that’s_ the best thing Stephen has ever heard.

* * *

“I’d like to do something for you,” Loki says lazily.

They’re on the floor of the study, a block of sunlight from the window slowly creeping across their bodies. Loki is on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms as he looks at Stephen. One strand of hair sweeps across his forehead. It makes him look disheveled and content. Well, he _is_ disheveled. They’ve been fucking, Loki on his knees. Over the months, Stephen has learned that Loki loves it from behind.

Over the months, Stephen’s learned a lot about Loki. That he likes Thai food almost as much as Stephen does, but wrinkles his nose if it’s too spicy. That he’s always very put together in designer suits and shirts when he comes by, but that he wears thick wool socks that are threadbare in more than one place. That he can’t sit straight in a chair to save his life. That it takes him six or seven books piled around himself before he settles on the one he wants to read.

He does this thing where he chews the inside of his cheek when he’s thinking. His fingers fidget, twisting together, when he’s anxious. His eyes light up when he’s happy, and it’s like seeing straight through to his soul, to this intelligent, funny, charming, wonderful person who’s so guarded and so afraid let the world see him the way he is.

Loki hit his head on the big leather armchair closest to the fireplace on one of Stephen’s more exuberant thrusts; when Stephen swore and apologized, Loki laughed, braced himself on the chair, and said, “More of that, please.”

One of Stephen’s arms is looped through Loki’s, his fingers resting on Loki’s bicep. He’s on his back, and he’s been watching the way the light plays across Loki’s skin, how it brings out these pretty, almost reddish tones in his black hair. The perfect, sculpted curves of his buttocks makes him look like he belongs in a museum.

“Something besides this?” Stephen asks, waving his other hand vaguely. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything else. Loki tired him out, and his limbs all feel like putty, and he just wants to lie there and look at Loki.

A content smile drifts across Loki’s face. Satisfied. It still seems crazy to Stephen that _he_ is able to get Loki going the way he does, but Loki keeps coming back. And Loki keeps coming. Stephen commented once that Loki has the refractory period of an eighteen-year-old and Stephen would love to know his secret.

“ _Refractory_ period,” Loki repeated dryly. “You know I love it when you talk dirty to me, Stephen.”

Stephen laughed, and then he rolled on top of Loki, running his fingers up Loki’s bicep. “You shorten my refractory period, baby,” he purred.

A smile twitched at Loki’s face. He’d actually had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, though Stephen’s not sure that Loki knows he’s picked up on the fact that he does this. “No one fornicates like you,” Loki said very seriously.

They had actually talked about Stephen’s medical career after that. Stephen had said, “You have to give me a break, I _was_ a surgeon. I can’t help it if I think of things in these terms sometimes.”

“Tell me about that,” Loki said. “Being a surgeon. Healing people.”

Stephen did. At one time, it would have surprised him that Loki was interested. He realized after Loki left that day that it hadn’t surprised him at all, though.

They talk a lot—way more than they have have sex, actually. They have a lot of sex too, though.

Loki is satisfied now, but he’s insatiable. He’ll want more in fifteen or twenty minutes. Stephen will be happy to oblige.

“I want to do something for you because you always do what I want to do,” Loki says.

“Yeah, somehow, I find it in myself,” Stephen says. “It’s tough, but, you know, someone’s gotta do it.”

Another smile flickers across Loki’s face, slightly less contented, slightly more wolfish. “I must admit, I’m quite pleased with my choice so far,” he says.

It’s a compliment that’s also a warning. _So far._ As in, Loki’s keeping his options open. This is just sex.

There’s no way this is just sex.

Loki lays his fingers on top of Stephen’s, stroking them in a way that seems almost absent-minded. “You’re very generous.”

“I don’t know. I don’t give enough to charity.”

With a snort, Loki says, “You know what I mean.” When Stephen exaggeratedly furrows his brow, looking as confused as he possibly can, Loki huffs and says, “Sexually, Strange. You’re an extremely generous lover.”

To be fair, Loki makes it easy. But yeah, this is something Stephen’s always prided himself on. “You getting off gets me off,” he says, feeling his smile get more crooked.

Loki plays with Stephen’s fingertips. “I want to _do_ something. For you. Something you want to do. Anything. You must have fantasies?”

“Seriously, Loki. I appreciate what you’re trying to do—” Though he’s not sure he really understands it. “—but I don’t need anything else.”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki says, “So you _do_ have fantasies.”

Stephen laughs. “Everyone does. That’s all they are.”

“Tell me,” Loki says. “I’ll do it.”

With another laugh, Stephen says, “They’re the same as everyone’s, probably.”

“I want to know,” Loki says. 

Oh. He means it.

“I don’t know,” Stephen says. “Being able to last for hours.”

“Nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid,” Loki says, a sly flicker of a grin on his face. 

With a dramatic sigh, Stephen says, “Yeah, trust me, I’ve looked for a magical fix for it. Haven’t found one yet.” This isn’t true, though now that he’s saying it, he bets Loki would probably appreciate if he _could_ find a spell like that.

Loki slides his hand over Stephen’s cheek and into his hair. “What twisted sexual desires lay beneath that controlled exterior of yours, Stephen?” When Stephen chuckles, Loki’s eyebrow arches again. “Ropes? Chains? Whips?”

“Do I really seem like a BDSM guy?” Stephen snorts.

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, Loki says, “I don’t _know_. That’s the problem. You’re so…”

When he trails off, Stephen asks, “What?”

Loki looks considering, but finally, he says, “Contained. I don’t know what you’re thinking. What goes on behind those lovely eyes of yours?”

Though Loki says all of this like it’s a bit of a joke, Stephen sees something else on his face—a genuine desire to know what Stephen is thinking. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“It’s something with bodily fluids, isn’t it?” Loki asked. He looks like he can barely contain laughter. “Do you like getting pissed on?”

Stephen lets out a startled laugh and when he looks back at Loki, there’s this expression on Loki’s face that makes him feel like the sun in the room is just for them. He wants to roll onto his side and cup his hands around the back of Loki’s head and kiss him. Not to have it lead to anything. Just to kiss him.

“What if I did?” Stephen asks. “What if that’s it, and now I feel really awkward about telling you?”

“Where’s that glass of water?” Loki asks, pushing himself up on his elbows.

Laughing again, Stephen pulls him down. And then, what the hell. He pulls him closer and kisses him. There’s no fight from Loki. He makes this little _oof_ sound and buries a hand in Stephen’s hair and kisses back, and it’s insistent and warm and Stephen wants to do this forever.

“Tell me, Stephen,” Loki says into his mouth. Stephen can feel him smiling.

Stephen just makes a noise.

“Stephen,” Loki breathes.

One of Loki’s hands runs down Stephen’s body lightly, his fingers moving a little. Wait a second. He wouldn’t dare.

The hand reaches Stephen’s ass and he doesn’t know how Loki knows he’s ticklish there, he _really_ doesn’t, but Loki manages to find _the_ spot with almost no effort. Stephen jerks and tries to swat Loki away, but he can’t stop the absolutely idiotic giggle that escapes him.

Loki breaks the kiss and grins wickedly. Stephen stands no chance. He tries to scramble away but Loki pins him, rolls him over onto his stomach, and holy _shit_ he’s strong. Turns out if he wanted to, Loki could do whatever he wanted, and there would be no way Stephen could overpower him.

And right now he’s really using his powers for evil.

Stephen is howling with laughter before ten seconds have gone by, but Loki is merciless. “This can all stop right now, Stephen,” he says. “All you have to do is tell me one little thing.”

Actually he can’t speak at _all_ right now except to wheeze, “Stop, _stop!_ ”

“Mm, are you ready to talk?”

When Stephen just writhes and laughs, his stomach aching, Loki redoubles his efforts. He’s going for a whole body tickle now, and it’s working.

“Okay—okay,” Stephen finally gasps, practically crying. Loki relents. He looks like he’s having the time of his life.

It takes Stephen a minute to get his breath back. His ribs are killing him. Fuck. He’s getting old. But the delight on Loki’s face makes it _almost_ worth it.

Loki is waiting patiently, but Stephen has no doubt that he’ll go in for the kill again if he stays silent. Once he’s breathing normally again, he hesitates for another second. The fantasy that came to mind is the one he actually hasn’t had for awhile—hasn’t had, to be honest, since Loki and he started…whatever this is. “It’s kind of fucked up,” he says.

“Tell me,” Loki repeats, flexing his fingers threateningly.

“I don’t know. It’s just a fantasy.”

“Stephen, _tell me._ ”

Stephen opens his mouth, then closes it. He regrets allowing anything to show on his face. “Forget I said anything.”

With a snort, Loki replies, “I never forget anything you say. I can handle it. And if I don’t like it—” He makes a flicking motion with his hand. “Then I’ll see you when I see you, as I believe the expression goes.”

Yeah. That’s exactly the problem. Every time Loki goes, some part of Stephen dims. It’s like the sunlight shining through the window, bright and golden on the two of them. That goes away when Loki does.

There’s a word for this. For what this is. For that feeling. Stephen doesn’t want to think it, because it’s scary enough with a normal person, with a human being who might not want to mold their life to Stephen’s, whose life he might not want to mold his too. Loki isn’t a human being. Stephen can’t tell what Loki’s thinking from one moment to the next. Sometimes he thinks he’s just Loki’s mortal plaything—and sometimes the way Loki looks at him makes him think…makes him hope, stupidly, that he’s so much more.

These days, he’s been thinking that he is. Loki doesn’t say it. But Stephen thinks he can see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at Stephen, the way he smiles, the way he lets his guard down every once in awhile. 

He spent the night once; he fell asleep on the sofa as they were watching a movie, and Stephen hated to wake him up because he looked so comfortable and peaceful. But the credits rolled and Netflix went back to the main menu and Stephen knew he couldn’t sit there and watch Loki sleep like a creep, so he gently shook him awake and told him the movie was over and it was like midnight, and was he okay to fly home?

In his head, Stephen was thinking, _I can probably get the guest bedroom made up pretty fast if he wants to sleep here_.

But Loki yawned and said, “Your bed is big enough for two people, isn’t it?”

Stephen has tried not to think about how it felt to wake up in the morning with his arms wrapped around Loki and their legs tangled together, because if he thinks about it, he’ll think about how he wants it all the time, how he doesn’t want Loki to go, doesn’t want to wonder when he’s going to see him again.

He’ll think about the fact that he’s in love with Loki Odinson, and that seems like a really dangerous thing to have let happen.

He knows it’s true. He’s known it’s true for awhile. It’s maybe been true this whole time. That doesn’t make it any less scary. It’s too much to expect Loki to love him back.

Loki runs his fingernails over Stephen’s ribs in a distinctly threatening way. “You said you’d talk.”

Stephen props a leg up and looks at Loki. “I don’t want to actually _do_ this. It’s just a fantasy, okay?”

“Spit it out,” Loki says. Stephen’s almost tempted to make a joke about how neither of them ever does, but he refrains. “Your deepest, darkest sexual fantasy, please.”

Letting out a slow breath, Stephen says, “Well.” This is awkward. But Loki really seems to want to know. “It involves you, actually.”

Loki’s eyebrows shoot up. He seems genuinely surprised. “It does?” His hand withdraws and falls a bit, until it’s resting on Stephen’s hip. Stephen’s not sure he realizes he’s doing it. “Me specifically?”

“Yeah.” If he doesn’t just say it, he’s never going to be able to. Just spit it out. “I used to think about having a threesome with you and Thor.”

Loki blinks. Stephen can’t tell if this is a good or bad sign.

“A threesome,” Loki finally repeats. “With Thor.”

“And you.” Maybe clarifying this isn’t actually helpful. Out loud, it sounds less dirty and more just kind of silly. It goes without saying that Loki is obviously not going to go for this. Stephen wouldn’t want him to.

He really should have just made something up. _I always wanted to be handcuffed to the bed and blindfolded while someone fucked me, then rode me._ That one’s fine, why couldn’t he have said that? He actually _does_ want to do that; that would be hot.

He realizes that one time he actually had that fantasy and combined it with the threesome fantasy and—

Not helpful.

“But this isn’t something that I ever wanted to really happen,” Stephen says, smiling, like this is all actually pretty funny.

Loki smiles easily. “I said I want to do something for you.”

“Loki—”

His hand finds Stephen’s cock. “For now, do something for me again.”

But Stephen stops him. “Are you okay?” he asks. He’s not sure he’s ever asked this. Not like, in an emotional sense. Loki rarely presents him with an opportunity that he might _not_ be okay, even though Stephen knows that Loki is probably one of the least okay people to have ever walked the Earth. There have been flashes of vulnerability over the months, but they’re gone before Stephen can decide if he should say something.

Stephen realizes he’s not much better. He hasn’t been very good about letting Loki in.

He wants to be. But now he’s not sure how to change this. He doesn’t want Loki to leave for good. The thought of Loki leaving for good is unimaginable, actually.

There’s a flash of surprise in Loki’s eyes, which becomes something else. It’s sadness, Stephen realizes. He’s been thinking, all this time, that he’s not very good at reading Loki. But he can. Loki looks devastated.

And suddenly Stephen doesn’t want to screw—he wants to wrap his arms around Loki and kiss the sadness away, he wants to make promises that he doesn’t think Loki even wants to hear, about how he’ll always do everything to keep that sadness at bay, about how Loki can always trust him, that he sees Loki’s vulnerability for what it is. It’s a precious thing to be entrusted with, and Stephen would never use that trust to wound.

But if Loki doesn’t want to hear promises, then he also doesn’t want to be asked if he’s okay. The sadness disappears, stuffed back into the place where Loki hides all of his pain, and he pins Stephen to the floor, then straddles him. He moves against Stephen, rubbing their cocks together, and Stephen gets hard so fast it’s embarrassing. Loki, too, though that’s not embarrassing, it’s just sexy.

“Do you want me?” Loki asks.

Stephen runs his hands up the sides of Loki’s legs and fits his palms over Loki’s slender hips. He’s wanted Loki since—well, maybe not the first time he saw him, but it didn’t take long. But now he wants so much more. Is that what Loki means? He never says what he means.

“Yes,” he says, and then moans, because Loki is tracing his fingers up the inside of his thigh, then touching his balls, then rubbing at his hole, and he’s powerless to stop this once Loki starts it. He thinks they should stop—he thinks they should talk. But with Loki’s hands on him, and his hands on Loki, it makes him want to use his mouth for other things.

So he tightens his grip on Loki’s hips and pulls him forward until he he can wrap his lips around Loki’s cock, and he does everything Loki wants.

* * *

There’s no more mention of the fantasy. Stephen figures that’s the end of it. Well, he _hopes_ that’s the end of it. If Loki wants to do something for him, he can pick up the tab at dinner. The next time they see each other, Stephen says they should go out, and Loki hesitates before he agrees. Stephen pays, though.

When they walk back to the Sanctum, Stephen says nonchalantly, “It’s pretty late. Want to stay here for the night?”

Loki smiles slightly. “Oh, I would hate to be an inconvenience.”

_When have you ever been an inconvenience?_ Stephen wants to ask. But he has a feeling Loki could reel off a litany of all the times he’s felt like an inconvenience, stretching back a thousand years. Stephen doesn’t know if Loki would believe him even if he _did_ say Loki’s never been an inconvenience to him.

“We already established that my bed is big enough for two people,” Stephen says.

For a second, longing washes over Loki’s face. But then it’s gone. “You have that thing with Morgan le Fay to deal with,” Loki says. “That’s important.”

“Yeah,” Stephen says. Loki’s smile twitches again. It looks unhappy.

When he turns and walks away, Stephen doesn’t stop him, even though he wants to.

* * *

The next morning, he calls Sam Wilson up. “Hey,” he says. “This thing with Morgan le Fay. I could use some extra magical help and no one at Kamar-Taj has any time to spare. I was thinking, maybe Loki might be willing to lend a hand?”

This is low on a number of levels. One, it’s totally a lie. He hasn’t asked anyone for help, even Wong. Wong would help.

Two: Stephen doesn’t need help. He just wants to see Loki.

Three: If he wants to see Loki, he should just ask Loki himself.

But Stephen isn’t above doing this kind of thing. Clearly.

The shrug in Wilson’s voice is audible. “Sorry, Doc—I already did. He said he’s tied up with something else. Said to send his regards if you asked, though.”

“Uh huh.” Stephen feels a sinking sensation in his gut.

“You want me to ask Scott? That close-up magic is pretty impressive.”

Stephen hangs up, then texts Wilson, _Sorry, call dropped_

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a slow breath of air. What the hell does he do now?

* * *

At the two week mark, Stephen realizes this is the longest he’s gone without seeing Loki in months. In fact, if he thinks back, it’s the longest he hasn’t seen Loki since that party, since the foyer, the sofa, and then Stephen’s bedroom—since Loki told him _I need it from you_.

Stephen had thought about that a lot. First Loki had said _I need it—_ and okay, fine. He was horny. Stephen was there, drinking alone, obviously looking like maybe he needed it, too. But then Loki had said _I need it from you_ , and that’s a very different sentiment. That’s not just Loki being horny—that’s Loki wanting Stephen specifically.

But it’s been radio silence. Did he finally get bored? Stephen was his booty-call for a few months, but the excitement fades as the newness dulls. At least, in theory. It didn’t for Stephen, but Loki is—well, months ago, Stephen probably would have said something like, ‘Loki’s flakey,’ as in, he gets bored easily and moves on to the next interesting thing. But he doesn’t actually think that Loki is flakey. He thinks Loki is scared.

Is that better than Loki deciding that his middle-aged human lover has given all he can give? Stephen doesn’t know. He hates the thought that they could have something more if Loki would just stop being so terrified. Of course, Stephen’s a coward too. He’s sitting in the Sanctum, procrastinating on taking out Morgan le Fay, because he keeps hoping that Loki will show up and offer to help. He called Sam Wilson to try to get Loki here instead of just talking to Loki himself.

Morgan is becoming a nuisance. Loki isn’t going to show up. Stephen sighs, throws the Cloak of Levitation over his shoulders, and goes out to do his job.

* * *

A booming knock on the front door startles Stephen.

It’s late, way later than Loki ever comes by. Stephen curses himself for even thinking this. This is getting kind of pathetic. He needs a hobby if he’s ever going to get over Loki, which, as the weeks pass, is becoming increasingly clear is what he better do. He hasn’t seen or heard from him since they went out to dinner that night, when Loki had looked so sad, like he’d just suffered a horrible loss.

Anyway, he knows it’s not Loki, because that’s not how Loki knocks.

He glances at the clock in the library. It’s just past nine at night. Better safe than sorry. He waves a hand and the Cloak shoots to his side, settling on his shoulders. Stephen jogs down the steps, strides across the foyer, and throws the door open, all of the Sanctum’s defenses raised.

The sight on the front stoop stymies Stephen. It’s Thor. God of Thunder Thor.

Loki’s brother Thor.

“Hello, Stephen!” Thor says with a grin.

Stephen feels his forehead crinkle. “Uh…hi.” He tries to see if someone is with Thor, as though Loki is hiding behind his back and is going to pop out. Thor appears to be alone. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I just thought I could come by and we could spend some time together,” Thor says.

What the fuck is happening?

“Sure…” Stephen says, stepping aside so Thor can enter. He drops the Sanctum’s most stringent protective measures before Thor crosses the threshold.

As Thor strolls into the foyer, Stephen notices for the first time that he’s holding a bottle. He eyes it. Some kind of alcohol. The label is in another language. Looks like Norwegian. “So…” Stephen says. “Can I…uh…get you anything? Did you want to sit down?”

Thor brandishes the bottle. “I brought this. Is there anywhere comfortable in this house?”

Stephen’s beginning to get a bad feeling. Does Thor know about Loki and him? Is Thor one of those really overprotective older siblings? His impression of the guy has always been one of kind of like, the demi-god version of a golden retriever. Thor is everyone’s friend, because he can’t imagine that anyone _doesn’t_ want to be his friend. Not in an off-putting way, but in that way that, well, golden retrievers are everyone’s friend, because when they lope up to you, smiling that giant dog smile, what are you supposed to do? _Not_ be their friend? It doesn’t fit into Thor’s worldview that someone wouldn’t want to have a drink with him.

But what if he’s wrong about that? What if Thor is really good natured—up to the moment you mess with his brother? What if he’s here to threaten Stephen? Stephen’s definitely got homefield advantage, but if Thor really wanted to do some damage, he probably could, even with all of the Sanctum’s protections at Stephen’s fingertips.

“We can go into the study,” Stephen says slowly.

“I suppose that’s fine,” Thor says cheerfully.

Stephen leaves the door open so Wong will be able to easily see any in-progress carnage if he happens to get back while Thor is here.

As Stephen sits in the chair that Loki and he have fucked in many times, he steeples his fingers in his lap. Thor glances around, then plops down in the closest chair. He pulls the cap off the bottle and says, “I suppose I should have asked you to get a couple glasses.”

“Right,” Stephen says. He waves a hand, and two shot glasses appear on the table between the two chairs.

Thor’s expression brightens and he pours a generous shot, so generous that booze slops over the rims of both glasses. As he hands Stephen one of the glasses, he says, “There you go; drink up!”

Thor knocks the whole shot back and pours himself another immediately. Stephen still doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he takes the shot, too. Ugh. It’s Aquavit. Should’ve known. He hates this shit.

After the second shot, Thor reaches out and pours Stephen another, too, then a third for himself. Thor drinks it, but Stephen just sips at his. “This isn’t a bad time, is it?” Thor asks. “I’m not interrupting anything?”

The time to ask probably would have been when he was still standing outside and not when they were already several shots in. “No,” Stephen says. “I was just thinking about having an early night, actually. It’s quiet for once.”

“Oh, I think we can change that,” Thor said, with a look on his face that Stephen finds truly baffling. If Thor has a problem with Loki and him, surely he’ll just _say_ it, right? He’s not going to like, punch Stephen without warning? It’s actually an insulting thought; Loki’s an adult, Stephen’s an adult, and nothing untoward has been happening. Loki can have sex with whoever he wants to, however he wants to.

“I was kind of looking forward to it, actually,” Stephen says. He raises his glass to Thor. “Not that I don’t appreciate the nightcap.” He doesn’t. He’s confused and he hasn’t had Aquavit since a bad experience at a conference in Oslo in 2005, and even the smell of it is kind of making him sick.

Thor looks around. “Stephen,” he says, “is there a room in your house that has, I don’t know, a sofa?”

“What?” Stephen asks. “Why?”

“I was thinking it would be more comfortable.”

Stephen blinks at him, completely mystified. He’s definitely not tired anymore, if only because he wants to get to the bottom of Thor’s visit. It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about Loki. Unless he wants Stephen to be comfortable when he brings it up? But why? Stephen can’t think of any reason for that.

Slowly, Stephen says, “I…guess we could go to the den.”

“Do you have Netflix?” Thor asks.

“Yeah…” Stephen says.

Thor stands up, bottle and shot glass in hand. “Wonderful! Let’s go there.”

What the fuck is happening.

Once in the den, Stephen turns the tv on and asks, “Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Whatever you’d like,” Thor says. He still sounds very cheerful. Stephen’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something unexpected is going to happen and he’s going to be taken by surprise and look like an idiot—but he has no idea _what_ that thing is going to be.

Awkwardly, he sits down on the couch. Thor’s right in the middle so even though Stephen sits at the other end, he’s still not that far away. When Netflix comes up, there’s a message on the screen: _Pick up where you left off?_

Oh yeah. Right. Loki and he had been watching a movie. Apparently no one had turned Netflix on since then. They’d had a conversation about all the classic movies that Loki has never seen, and Stephen ended up putting on _Jaws_. He didn’t think Loki would actually be afraid of it, but he’d squirmed close to Stephen, his long legs folded up underneath him in a way that made Stephen’s knees hurt.

And then they hadn’t finished the movie, because Loki’s fingers found their way into Stephen’s clothes, and Stephen kissed Loki’s neck slowly, which made Loki moan and at that point, there really wasn’t any point in continuing to watch.

Stephen’s hand hovers on the remote. There’s a lump in his throat. He wishes Loki was here now.

Maybe he should have more Aquavit.

He doesn’t continue playing _Jaws._ Instead, he goes back to the main menu and puts on the first thing he lands on, which is some Netflix original that he’s never heard of. Thor doesn’t seem that interested in it, but then again, he’d said he didn’t care what they watched. Stephen’s shoulders feel stiff and tight. How is he supposed to relax? Thor and he barely know each other. And Thor isn’t talking to him, he’s just slowly sipping at his drink. Why did he come here tonight?

Also, is it his imagination, or does Thor keep getting closer every time Stephen isn’t looking?

With a breath, Stephen leans back into the sofa. This is weird, but so far it’s also inoffensive. Maybe Thor’s just bad at making friends? Maybe he already considers them friends, and he just wants to hang out? Stephen isn’t good at making friends, himself, so they’re probably on exactly opposite ends of the spectrum here.

That’s another thing Loki and Stephen have in common. Neither of them is a people person, even though they have to pretend to be.

Thor drains his glass and puts it on the side table. Stephen glances at him, then back to the movie. Now that he’s paying attention, it’s actually not bad. What is this called, again?

And then, suddenly, Thor is leaning over, a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, his lips pursed, as his face looms close to Stephen’s.

Stephen jumps to his feet so fast that his hip makes an audible cracking sound. “Whoa!” he yelps, holding a hand out. “What are you—did you just try to kiss me?”

“I—yes?” Thor says, as though this is really obvious and Stephen’s the one who’s acting crazy.

Heat is rising up Stephen’s neck to his face, though he hasn’t actually done anything to warrant being embarrassed. This is just…embarrassing. Baffling and embarrassing. Thor looks confused.

“Maybe this is a dumb question,” Stephen says. He’s still holding his hands out in front of him, like Thor is going to jump him. Then again, Thor _did_ just try to kiss him, and he’s admitting to it, so this idea doesn’t seem _completely_ insane. “But _why?_ ”

“Because you’re attracted to me and interested in pursuing a…I believe it’s called a ‘hook-up?’” Thor says. In what seems to be an attempt to clarify, he adds, “I was attempting to Netflix and chill.”

If Stephen’s eyebrows get any higher, they’re going to disappear into his hair. “Excuse me—sorry. What? I’m _what?_ ”

“Attracted to me,” Thor says. “Sexually.”

“Yeah thanks, I kind of got that from context!” Stephen feels like he’s losing it. “I’m not. I’m not attracted to you. I don’t know where you got the idea; I don’t even think we’ve spent enough time together for me to _give_ you the wrong idea, and I don’t know how the hell I _would_ have given you the wrong idea!”

“Loki said…” Thor begins, sounding befuddled.

Stephen freezes. “ _Loki_ said?” he repeats, hearing the dangerous note in his own voice.

Thor looks like he’s just been told he has two minutes to save the universe from annihilation, and all he has to do is solve this calculus problem that Stephen happens to have handy, no biggie. Then again, they’re talking about Loki now, and Loki _does_ feel a little like a calculus problem.

“Yes,” Thor says. He opens his mouth, closes it, then finally says, “Loki told me that…you were interested in…”

For fuck’s sake. _For fuck’s sake_. One thing at a time. He has to disabuse Thor of the idea that he’s interested in getting laid by the elder Odinson. Holding up his hands, Stephen says, “Look, Thor, you’re an attractive guy, so don’t take it personally. But I’m definitely not interested.”

That makes him sound like a dick, which he’s really not trying to be. If anything, Thor is the innocent victim in this. And what is _this_ , besides stupid? Completely, ridiculously stupid. Stephen runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what Loki told you, but…”

It occurs to him that maybe it was a joke. A prank. Maybe Loki’s just causing mischief.

Maybe he should be nicer. “It’s not that I’m not flattered. It’s just, I’m not. Interested, I mean.” He doesn’t really know if he’s all that flattered, either, but whatever. It’s the kind of white lie that isn’t going to hurt.

Thor looks vaguely disappointed, but he shrugs, as though to say _I’ll get over it_. Stephen wouldn’t have guessed Thor was into men. Maybe when you’re Asgardian, you’re willing to try most things at least once. “I admit I was surprised when Loki first mentioned it,” Thor says. “I thought that the two of you had some sort of arrangement.”

_Arrangement._ Stephen feels a ball of ice in his intestines. Is that how Loki sees it? Is that what he tells other people? Is that really a surprise? Stephen has assumed as much. It’s just, it hurts to hear it.

“Uh.” What is he supposed to say to this? It feels weird to tell your lover’s brother that yeah, you have an arrangement—you’ve been fucking his little brother and both of you have been pretending that it’s no-strings-attached sex, but actually you fell in love and now you don’t know what to do. The fact that Loki sent Thor here as some sort of—what? Prank? Sexual peace-offering?—is just like another level of weirdness.

“Perhaps it’s a good thing that I’m here, even if we aren’t going to go to bed.” Thor thinks for a second. “Not that it would have had to be in bed.”

Christ.

“Anyway,” Thor goes on, “as long as I _am_ here, could I ask—did you and Loki have a disagreement?”

“What?” Stephen asks, startled.

“He seems…” Thor stops, seeming to mull over his words. “…unhappy. Only of late. He hasn’t been visiting you the past few weeks, correct?”

“Um.”

“If you had a disagreement, you should understand that my brother doesn’t express himself very well when it comes to…” Thor hesitates again, then finishes, “Feelings. He thinks too much. I’m sure you know this. In matters of the heart, Loki…struggles.”

“We didn’t…” Stephen is now in the awkward position of having to admit to everything in order to deny the part about the fight.

And they didn’t have a fight. Did they? What would they have fought about? The fantasy is the only thing, and they didn’t fight about it. Loki acted like it was fine. Stephen’s not an idiot; he could tell something was wrong, but Loki wouldn’t talk, and Stephen wasn’t going to badger him.

Now he’s kind of annoyed. Is that what this is about? Loki’s trying to prove some kind of point. Stephen has no idea _what_ that point is, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. What the hell is wrong with him? For months now, he’s been looking at Loki and thinking, _Maybe this is more to him too_ and convincing himself that this is true—or maybe the better word is longing for it to be true. But now Loki pulls this, a disappearing act and then sending his fucking brother here to make a pass at Stephen, and—

Stephen sighs. “You’d better go, Thor.”

Looking disappointed, Thor says, “Don’t you want to finish the movie?”

He wants to go to bed. He wants to see Loki and grab him by the shoulders and ask him what the hell is going on. He wants to know why this can’t just be simple—or if not simple, because considering who they are, _simple_ is probably too much to hope for, then some version of it. He wants to know why they can’t just love each other. He wants to know why this has to be a game.

“I’ve seen it,” Stephen lies.

Thor leaves. Stephen goes to bed. He doesn’t sleep.

* * *

New Asgard is freezing, considering it’s not even winter anymore. Stephen didn’t even think to check the weather before he opened the portal. Sure, he could go back to the Sanctum to get a coat, but he’s here now. And if he walks quickly, he’ll warm up.

Turns out that’s not really true. Walking quickly just makes him out of breath. But people are already looking at him a bit oddly, anyway, so he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything except finding Loki and talking to him.

It’s four in the morning at home. Stephen laid in bed, thinking about what he needed to do, for hours. He fell asleep once, and he dreamed that Loki was in bed next to him, and when he reached out to pull him closer and met nothing but the cold emptiness of his bed, he realized there was only one thing _to_ do, and he got up.

New Asgard is six hours ahead of New York. Unless Loki is in the habit of sleeping for half the day, he’ll be awake.

Stephen looks for a doorbell, finds none, and then balls his hand into a fist to pound on the door he’s standing in front of. The cold hurts his hand. The door hurts his hand. There’s something kind of fitting about it.

The door opens. “Why did you sic your brother on me?” Stephen demands. He’s glad he got the right house. As far as he can tell, there aren’t any addresses in New Asgard, and ‘the little one made of stone with the wood door’ doesn’t exactly narrow it down all that much. 

But Loki is standing there in the doorway, wearing a slouchy, worn fisherman’s sweater and joggers, his hair a mess of frizzy snarls, and befuddlement in his gorgeous blue eyes. 

“Stephen,” he says. Then, there’s dawning horror as he looks at their surroundings, and down at himself. He moves to shut the door, but Stephen catches it with a hand. It sends a shockwave of pain through his wrist. 

“Don’t,” Stephen says. “Please. I came all the way here.”

“It took you two seconds,” Loki snaps. 

Called out. It took Stephen longer to get decent directions to Loki’s house than to get to New Asgard. “Just tell me why Thor showed up at the Sanctum and tried to make a move on me, would you?”

“Because you told me that’s what you wanted!” Loki says. He runs a hand through his hair and it snags on his curls. “Just—come in. This is embarrassing enough.”

What’s embarrassing? Seeing how Loki lives? Does he think Stephen doesn’t know all of this? Does he really think Stephen isn’t well aware of what New Asgard looks like, about what Loki’s life is actually like? That it isn’t well cut suits and Gucci sunglasses, but a hardscrabble village trying to get by?

Stephen steps into the house. It’s small. Clean. But there’s _stuff_. Where did Loki get all this stuff? There’s not much order to it that Stephen can see, though he also knows that Loki probably knows exactly where everything is. Stephen’s the same way, isn’t he?

Fuck. They’re alike in so many ways, from stupid, minor ones like this to the important ones. The ones that matter. But if Stephen tried to articulate them right now, he couldn’t, because only one thing matters right now: he’s in love with Loki. He’s stupidly, idiotically in love with Loki, and he doesn’t understand how Loki doesn’t see that. 

Loki stands there in the tiny front room, looking around, probably thinking the place is a mess, and then he says, without looking at Stephen, “Do you want some tea or something?”

“I want you to talk to me,” Stephen says. He normally wouldn’t be this…open. But he hasn’t slept. He’s at the end of his last frayed nerve with this. He hasn’t seen Loki for weeks, and he misses him. Even now, with Loki’s back to him, his shoulders tight and tensed, and whatever weird, fucked up mess is between them, Stephen wants him. Not his body, but _him_. Loki. He wants Loki to know that Stephen is his, in a way that Stephen has never, ever wanted or been able to imagine being anyone’s.

Loki turns around. His eyebrows are drawn together. His eyes are wounded. He looks like he’s trying to hold it together and failing. But still, _still_ , all he says is, “Talk about what?”

Stephen crosses the room until they’re standing an arm’s length from each other. Loki is a few inches taller than him, and Stephen has to look up to meet his eyes. “What the hell was that stuff with Thor? I thought…you and me…”

At this last part, Loki seems to lean forward, as though these words are a line and he’s hooked on the end of it. But Stephen doesn’t know how to finish.

And when he doesn’t, Loki’s expression dims. He presses his lips together and shifts his gaze from Stephen’s. “I thought it was what you wanted,” he says. “You said you fantasized about Thor. I was trying to do something nice for you.”

“Bullshit,” Stephen says.

Loki’s eyes snap back up to meet his. Something blazing lights his face. “I love my brother, Stephen. Very much. Er, not… _that_ much. You know what I mean.” He sucks in a breath. “But I’ve spent my whole life living in his shadow. Thor has always been the better loved, the hero, the one that everyone wants on their _team._ ”

Oh. Oh. Stephen thinks he sees where this is going.

Swallowing, Loki says, “And then…do you remember the first time we worked together?”

Sure. Stephen remembers everything. But he doesn’t know what Loki is referring to. So he just nods.

Loki’s chest rises and falls. “Wilson asked if you wanted my help or Thor’s. And you said you wanted mine.”

“You’re the sorcerer,” Stephen says. “I wasn’t going to choose Thor just because he was the cool kid.”

“Yes but, people _do_. People have. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Loki sucks in a deep breath. “You chose me because of my abilities. And that meant something to me.”

“Loki…” Stephen says helplessly.

But Loki shakes his head. He’s not done. “You were just mine, Stephen. There was no comparison with my brother. You weren’t thinking of him when you were with me. Except…you were.”

For god’s sake. Stephen wasn’t. He _wasn’t_. How does Loki not know this? How does Loki not know that he’s got Stephen wrapped around his little finger, that Stephen is _incapable_ of thinking of anyone else?

Loki swallows again, harder, and looks at the ground. “But if you want my brother, then…I can’t deny you that. I thought you’d appreciate him coming to the Sanctum. We don’t have to stop…seeing each other, though perhaps you’d prefer that.”

Loki. _Loki._ What is Stephen supposed to say to this?

Stephen stares at him. He’s silent for so long that Loki’s eyes flick back up to his. “You’re an idiot,” Stephen says.

And then he steps forward, puts his trembling hands on Loki’s face, and kisses him.

Just to be sure, though, he breaks the kiss and adds, “I want you. Just you. Only you.” Does he need to say more? He understands suddenly that Loki needs to hear these things, that for as much as Stephen thinks he’s conveying how he feels by his actions, by the way he holds Loki and kisses him, that Loki needs him to _say_ it.

So he does. “I don’t think of anything else when we’re together. And lately, you’re the only thing I can think about at all.”

A smile flickers across Loki’s face and grows brighter. It’s like the sun, and Stephen feels an answering brightness in him. With a noise, Loki wraps his arms around Stephen’s back. Their mouths find each other’s again.

They don’t stop kissing for…awhile. This is right. Everything about this is right.

* * *

Loki’s bedroom is small and cluttered, like the rest of the house. All he has is a twin bed. That just means when they’re done fucking, when they’ve made love until neither of them can get it up again, when they’re sweaty and exhausted, they have no choice but to hold each other close, their arms and legs looped and tangled together.

Stephen’s arm is around Loki’s back and it’s falling asleep, pins and needles prickling from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s happy. This is what he wants.

Loki is kissing Stephen’s face slowly, trailing his mouth from his eyebrow to his jaw, nuzzling his nose into Stephen’s beard. Occasionally, he makes a contented noise. His lips move down to Stephen’s neck and he sucks at the skin there, then nips gently.

All Stephen can do is laugh a little and bury his face in Loki’s hair. He’s spent, but of course Loki isn’t. That’s okay. He’ll do anything Loki wants him to.

But Loki doesn’t actually try to start anything. He’s just exploring, as though he hasn’t touched every inch of Stephen’s body before with his fingers and his lips and his tongue. It’s like it’s new to him. Maybe he’s letting himself see Stephen in a new light.

“Can I ask you something?” Stephen says.

“Mm hm.”

“What did you mean that first time?” Stephen strokes his fingers shakily down Loki’s spine, across his ribs. Loki’s body rises to meet his hand, shivers underneath Stephen’s touch. “When you said you need it from me?”

Loki breathes out slowly. Stephen wonders if this question is a mistake. He doesn’t think Loki will kick him out, but it’s possible that it will have the opposite effect than Stephen’s intending, and that Loki might shut him out, even if he allows Stephen to stay in his bed.

But Loki props himself up on an elbow, his messy curls framing his face, his blue eyes full of…something, something Stephen doesn’t even want to admit that he’s hoping for. They’re pressed together from the hips down, Loki’s ankle hooked over Stephen’s. “I thought you’d guessed, Strange,” Loki says.

“I don’t like to guess,” Stephen says.

Loki tilts his head, hesitates, then slides a hand onto Stephen’s chest. Stephen covers his hand with his own. “The ‘from you’ was the important part,” Loki says. He pauses and thinks. “Well. I also was very determined to get fucked. But I wanted you. I’d wanted you for a long time.”

Stephen processes this so quickly that his brain doesn’t quite have time to catch up. And then he blurts out, “I love you.”

Loki blinks. Then he says, “I thought you didn’t like to guess.”

“I’m not guessing. I’m telling you. I love you.” Stephen runs his fingers through Loki’s hair. “I love you, Loki.”

Maybe this is a huge mistake. But he can’t not say it. It’s been true for…a long time. Maybe this whole time.

Loki breathes in. Then he smiles. “Well. If it had been a guess…” He leans down and kisses Stephen. “…it would have been right.”

They kiss slowly, so slowly, and then Stephen says into Loki’s mouth, “If you still want to do something for me, you can say it.”

He feels Loki smile. It’s a struggle not to keep kissing him. But Stephen waits. He lets Loki speak.

“I love you too, Stephen,” Loki says, his voice full of resolute truth, of feeling, of the sunlight shining through the window onto their bodies.

Now they can kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate it so much 😄 Kudos and comments are the best and if you feel like you'd like to leave either for me, I'd love it!
> 
> You should also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


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